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As some unhappy wight at some new play,
At the pit door stands, elbowing away,
While oft, with many a smile, and many a shrug,
He eyes the center, where his friends sit snug ;
His simpering friends, with pleasure in their eyes,
Sink as he sinks, and as he rises, rise :
He nods, they nod : he cringes, they grimace;
But not a soul will budge to give him place.
Since then, unhelp'd, our bard must now conform
“ To 'bide the pelting of this pit’less storm,"
Blame where you must, be candid where you can,
And be each critic the Good-natur'd Man.

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER ;

OR THE MISTAKES OF A NIGHT.

COMEDY.

AS ACTED AT THE

"THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT-GARDEN :

FIRST PRINTED IN 1772.

Vol. II

DEDICATION.

TO

SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL. D.

DEAR SIR,

By inscribing this slight performance to you, I do not mean so much to compliment you as myself. It may do me some honor to inform the public, that I have lived many years in intimacy with you. It may serve the interests of mankind also to inform them, that the greatest wit may be found in a character, without impairing the most unaffected piety.

I have, particularly, reason to thank you for your partiality to this performance. The undertaking a Comedy, not merely sentimental, was very dangerous ; and Mr. Colman, who saw this piece in its various stages, always thought it so. However, I ventured to trust it to the public; and, though it was necessarily delay ed till late in the season, I have every reason to be grateful. I am,

Dear Sir,
Your most sincere
Friend and admirer,

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

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